The Story of Alek and Deryn
by Rick Peterson
Summary: Alek and Deryn live in interesting times.  If you like adventure, that can be good; but with the weight of an empire on your shoulders, not so much.  Either way, a good friend makes all the difference.  A series of interconnected vignettes.  Pre-Goliath.
1. The Reveal

The Reveal

September 28th 1914 – Over Siberia

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All characters, fabrications, walkers, tesla cannon and the like are the property of Scott Westerfield. No money is being made on this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

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This story is 'T' except for possibly one (non-swear) word in Chapter 2. I will put a special warning on that chapter. It is not necessary to read Chapter 2 in order to understand the rest of the story.

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A/N: Written Pre-Goliath

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As soon as Deryn closed the door behind them, Alek snatched his arm out of her hand and turned away from her. Looking around the former 'egg room', he asked in irritation, "Well, what did you have to tell me that is so important and private, Dylan?"

Normally, Deryn's temper would have risen to match his, but right now she was too terrified to get angry. Alek had become more distant over the past week, and Deryn didn't know why. He avoided her as much as he could and, when he couldn't, he would barely look at her. He wasn't rude or cold, and whatever the reason, it was clearly hurting him as much as it hurt her; but he wouldn't admit there was anything wrong, let alone tell her what.

The only thing Deryn could think of was that Count Volger had told him she was a girl. If that was it, she needed to explain; if it wasn't, well, she didn't think she could make things much worse by telling him.

"A secret," she told him hoarsely, "my last secret."

Alek spun around and stared at her in suspicion. "We are not supposed to have secrets anymore." He flushed suddenly.

Deryn hung her head. "Just the one. I know I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid it would spoil everything." She took a deep breath and looked into Alek's eyes. "Count Volger worked it out. Maybe he told you?"

Alek shook his head in confusion. Then he frowned. "Is this what Volger threatened you with?"

"Aye," she whispered.

Alek straightened and swelled with rage. "He will not threaten you again," he told her with a power and surety he had never shown before. "I will see to it he tells no one your secret." Deryn realized she was seeing, not the youth he had been, but the man he was becoming. It was rather intoxicating and Deryn almost missed next words.

"I won't even allow him to tell me. So," Alek ran his hand through his hair, slowly deflating, "you don't have to tell me either, if you don't wish to."

"Yes I do," Deryn said quickly, as he started to turn away again. Then, before she could change her mind, "I'm a girl."

As her words hung in the air, Deryn was suddenly certain she had just made a horrible mistake.

"What?" Alek asked blankly.

Too late to take her words back. Deryn swallowed and repeated, clearly, "I'm a girl."

She braced for his response, but not even her worst imaginings could match his ferocity. "That's not funny, Dylan!"

Now that she was committed, irritation got the better of her fear. "It's not meant to be, you dummkopf. I'm… A… Girl."

"Of course! The great Dylan Sharp – Destroyer of Walkers, Saver of Midshipmen, Seducer of Women, Overthrower of Sultans – is a girl. It is so obvious; how could I have missed it?"

Wait: Seducer of Women? But the rising tide of her anger, spurred on by his sarcasm, swept away such questions. "So that's it, is it? A girl couldn't possibly do those sorts of things, could she? All she could do is stay home and cook and breed up the next lot of bloody stupid Clankers!"

Alek wasn't listening. "I thought we were friends, at least. That even if you found out, you wouldn't make fun of me like this."

He stopped suddenly, and his face contorted into the strangest combination of hope and fear. Before Deryn could even begin to sort out what he was saying, he spoke again.

"Or is this some sort of code among homosexuals? Your role in… a coupling or something? If it is…" The fear overwhelmed the hope in his face and he took a step back. "I don't want to know."

Completely bewildered by now, Deryn cried out, "What do I have to do to prove it to you? Show you my diddies?"

Hope blossomed on Alek's face and Deryn rolled her eyes. Boys! She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I'm not about to! I'm not that sort of girl."

The hope dimmed in Alek's eyes. "You're not any sort of girl." Alek sounded defeated and Deryn's eyes started to burn; she blinked back tears. She was almost ready to strip in front of him; anything to convince him. But she had been telling the truth: she wasn't that sort of girl. Maybe some day, if things went as she hoped (which looked pretty barking unlikely), but not now and not like this.

"What can I do," she pleaded, her voice rising to a pitch a boy would find hard to match. "Tell me."

"Swear to me," Alek responded instantly, with an intensity that took her aback, "on your hope of heaven; swear to me that you are a girl."

That seemed a squick extreme, but Deryn didn't hesitate. "I swear."

It was as if he was a marionette whose strings had been cut. He leaned back against the bulkhead and slid to the deck with a force that must have hurt his bum. His head dropped forward, hiding his face, and he did something Deryn had never seen him do before: he crossed himself.

"Gott sei dank. Gott sei dank. Gott sei dank. Gott…"

Well, that was easy enough to translate, but why was he thanking God with such fervor?

"Alek?"

"Couldn't you have told me sooner?" He wailed, more anguished than angry.

"I'm sorry. I know I should have told you in Istanbul, when you told me about the scroll. Are you very angry with me?"

He looked giddily up into her eyes. "I suspect I shall shortly be furious with you; but right now I am too grateful that I won't burn in hell for all eternity, to be angry with anyone."

"Why would you think such a daft thing, you ninny?"

He looked at her very seriously. "Lusting after another man is a mortal sin, Dylan."

"It's Deryn, not Dylan. My name, I mean."

He nodded, although she didn't think he was really listening. She stored away the bit about lust in a corner of her mind for now. Instead, she asked softly, "Do Clankers really believe that?"

He nodded again.

"Well that's just dead…" She stopped. This wasn't the time to argue religion. "If I had thought for a moment you were feeling like that, I'd have told you right away. You know that, don't you?"

This time he considered the matter, before finally nodding. His giddiness was passing and his anger was growing, Deryn judged. While he would still listen, she hurriedly explained. "It was just that you said, that night, when we were talking about Lilit…"

"I do not," he interrupted harshly, "want to talk about Lilit. I have something much more important to ask you."

Here it comes, she thought, and braced herself. Then he suddenly looked shy and self-conscious.

"May I kiss you?"

The silly Clanker. Deryn hoped he didn't expect her to answer with words.

However, Alek seemed perfectly satisfied with her response. So much so, in fact, that he completely forgot to be furious with her. In turn, she decided that the whole issue – of her being as common as dirt and him the heir to an empire – could wait.

And wondered if she might not be that sort of girl, after all.


	2. The Day After

The Day After

29 September 1914 – Over Siberia

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All characters, fabrications, walkers, tesla cannon and the like are the property of Scott Westerfield. No money is being made on this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

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There is one (non-swear) word in this chapter which may deserve an 'M' rating. You do not need to read this chapter in order to understand the rest of the story, but it helps.

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A/N: Written Pre-Goliath.

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The day after their first kiss was very awkward. Dylan seemed to feel the same; except that Dylan wasn't her real name, of course. She had told him her real name, but he had been so focused on the fact that she was a girl and he was not homosexual, he had missed it. He thought it was something like "Darren", which was a British name, he knew, but wasn't it a male name? So he was left pondering whether it was better to admit he hadn't paid attention, or to use a possibly wrong name.

But that wasn't the most embarrassing part of it. Worse was the fact that he couldn't even look at Dylan without his cheeks heating up.

He and his people had been allowed the freedom of the ship, once they had given their paroles. They couldn't escape while the Leviathan was in the air, and they were hardly going to sabotage the ship they depended on for their lives, so it wasn't much of a concession; but it meant Alek was free to have breakfast with Dylan and Newkirk in the Middie's mess. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he tried his best not to look at her, but his eyes tended to drift towards her whenever his concentration slipped. She didn't look at him at all, which he thought showed her own embarrassment. Fortunately, Newkirk was too busy eating to notice anything.

Dylan sighed and pushed away from the table. "I have to go fetch his countship his breakfast," she announced to the far wall. Despite their freedom, Volger insisted on eating in his room. Newkirk grunted and continued eating.

Alek did not care for the idea of Dylan facing the count alone. Volger might not know what happened last night, but he would quickly realize that something had changed. Alek knew that Volger would not approve and he preferred that his biting comments be directed at himself rather than her.

"I'll do it."

Rather than the gratitude Alek had expected for this consideration, however, Dylan looked annoyed. "I can do it myself," she snapped.

Newkirk looked up in surprise. "But you keep saying how you hate waiting on 'the sodding count'."

Alek tamped down his own growing annoyance. Remembering his promise of the night before, he said, "It's no trouble, I need to talk to him in any case."

Dylan looked suspicious, but shrugged. "Fine. I need to attend to the Lady Boffin anyway. I'm sure she'll have a long list of errands for me – on top of my regular duties. I can do without waiting on a barking fancy-boots count as well."

"It is settled, then," Alek said stiffly. "Would you take Bovril? I'll be on engine duty all day." The loris hated the cold, noisy, windy engine pods.

Dylan nodded, looking grumpy, and the loris quickly climbed from Alek's shoulder and settled comfortably around Dylan's neck. Alek headed to the galley to collect breakfast for the count, while Dylan hurried off to Dr. Barlow's cabin. Awkwardly holding the tray, Alek knocked on Volger's door before entering.

The count looked surprised to see him in place of Dylan. He gestured to Alek to set the tray down on his desk, but did not even glance at it. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on the boy. Alek knew Volger would neither speak nor look away until Alek broke and blurted something out. The fact that he knew what the Count was doing did not make the tactic less effective. This time, however, Alek was more than happy to speak first.

"You are blackmailing Dylan, threatening to tell…" Alek realized he had almost said 'her' and quickly altered this to, "his secret. This will cease immediately. You will make no further threats and you will tell no one this secret."

Volger looked him over consideringly, taking his time. Alek felt his face redden and his confidence started to wane. After some time, Volger said, "Have I? I assume she told you this?"

"You told me – unintentionally, I imagine – via Eddie Malone's bullfrog," Alek said shortly. Wait, what had Volger said?

"She?" Angry, Alek snapped, "I said, 'no one.' Am I no one? Can you not understand a simple command, Count?"

"So you have feelings for this girl." Alek realized he had revealed himself with his vehemence. It had been foolish to try to disguise things: Volger could read him too well.

"That is not your concern. All you need concern yourself with is obeying my command."

"You are not yet my emperor, Your Serene Highness."

Alek glowered at the implied insult. He was a prince, a title that might impress Dylan, but in reality meant nothing. It came with no lands, no consequence and little rank; it marked him as a member of the aristocracy, but that was all. His possessions consisted of a few ounces of gold and some clothes. But this was an old insult; it still stung, but could no longer provoke him. It would not divert him from his purpose.

"I am not yet your emperor," Alek agreed, his voice steady, "and I may never be. But understand this: if you betray her, you betray me. If I cannot trust you in this, I cannot trust you in anything. Your influence with me will be at an end. Do you understand me, Wildcount?" If Alek had little real rank, well, Volger was not much better off.

Volger's face stilled. They glared at each other for what seemed to Alek an eternity. Finally, the count spoke in a quiet voice. "So you will abandon me, after all I have sacrificed for you, in favor of this chit of a girl? I have always acted in your best interest, Alek, and this is my reward: that you trust this girl more than me."

Alek felt a twinge of guilt, but refused to back down. "I trust you to act in what you perceive to be Austria's best interest; I'm not sure I trust you to act in mine."

Alek could not miss the hurt that passed over Volger's face. Then the man's shoulders set and his face went grim. "Very well. Since I apparently care nothing for your interests, let us speak of Austria's. The nobility will not accept you as emperor, if you come with a common Darwinist wife or bastard children in tow. You cannot end this war, if you are not emperor. Are you prepared to sacrifice tens of thousands of lives to pursue this liaison?"

Alek recoiled from him. He had not thought that far ahead; but Dylan, he suddenly realized, had. His own shoulders squared.

"I resent your insinuations, Count; but if you require it to quiet your concerns, I will give you my word. I will ascend the throne with neither wife nor children, bastard or otherwise, in tow."

"And Miss Sharp – or is that her name?" Alek nodded; that much, at least, he was sure of.

"Miss Sharp agrees with this?"

"She understands the situation all too well," Alek told him bitterly.

"Even after you become emperor, Alek, you cannot marry the girl without driving the nobility to revolt."

"I am not stupid, Volger, whatever you may think."

"I have never thought you stupid, Alek, but you do tend to act before you think."

Alek shrugged. "The Holy Father may render the whole matter moot, in any case."

He did not tell Volger that, should he become emperor, he had no intention of remaining at the mercy of the aristocracy forever. Power-sharing with the various ethnic groups was necessary to keep the empire from tearing itself apart; his father had known that and Volger had (begrudgingly, no doubt) accepted it. But Istanbul had shown Alek the need for more. The aristocrats, with a few exceptions, had gleefully pushed Europe into a disastrous war and allowed the Germans to gain more and more influence in the empire. By contrast, in the past months he had seen what commoners like Dylan, Dr. Barlow, Klopp and Lilit could do; he knew which group he wanted on his side. It would take time, but he already had some ideas on how to shift the balance of power from the aristocracy to the commons.

Instead, he said, "In turn, you must promise to stop threatening Dylan, to keep her secrets, and not interfere with our relationship." Whatever that might be. Alek realized he had no idea how they were to proceed. If they could not marry – at least for many years – was he unintentionally setting her up to become his mistress? As Katarina Schratt was to his great uncle: the woman he loved but would never marry, with far less status than his mother had? No. Whatever the future held, it would not be that. Dylan did not push him away last night. She must think there was a way; he would trust she was right.

Alek realized Volger was staring at him quizzically. He asked, "Do you even know her real name?"

Alek's face must have given him away, as Volger's face darkened. "Or were you too busy with other things to bother to ask?"

"I was too busy being grateful to discover I am not a homosexual!"

Volger's face drained of color. "Alek… if I had known…"

"Everyone keeps saying that," Alek snapped. "It is no matter. What I require from you, Count, is not sympathy, but your promise."

Volger looked dreadfully tired. After a moment, he said, "I do not dislike Miss Sharp. She is clever, resourceful, energetic and kind-hearted. Were it not for her gender, I would say she would make an excellent officer."

"She does, anyway," Alek said thoughtlessly.

They both frowned at the absurd idea. After a moment, Volger continued. "It is unfortunate that she is also vulgar, reckless, and lacks proper respect for the rules or her betters; but those faults often come with her virtues. Above and beyond all this, she has demonstrated a loyalty to you that transcends all her other loyalties. She has been a very good friend to you – I recognize this, even if I deprecate some of the choices she has encouraged you make. Be very sure, Alek, that you always deserve such loyalty."

Alek was taken aback. "What… of course I… why would…"

"If matters go awry, Miss Sharp will suffer far worse than you, boy."

Alek had stood, back straight, throughout the conversation; now he slumped down onto a chair, stunned. Volger was right. If things came out, the least that would happen was that Dylan would be removed from the Leviathan; her dream of flying reduced to just that: a dream. If their relationship was discovered or even guessed at (and how could people not guess?), her reputation would be in tatters. And if it was suspected that she was aiding Alek – from love or simply because she was a "weak woman," easily swayed – they wouldn't hang her, but they would certainly imprison her. Even if it was just until the end of the war (and who knew if that were true?), a reputation as a traitoress was a far worse thing than a reputation as a tart. Her life might not literally be at risk, but exposure could destroy it just the same.

As for himself, Alek would lose the freedom of the Leviathan. When they arrived in England, he would trade that prison for a far more luxurious one; but that would happen regardless. The matter would be considered a "youthful indiscretion." It would make it harder to convince the authorities to take him seriously, and that would make the inevitable negotiations more difficult, but he could overcome it with time and effort. Troublesome, but hardly the disaster facing Dylan.

"These sorts of affairs rarely end well, Alek. There are too many obstacles and, despite what the romantics say, love cannot conquer all."

"Matters did not 'go awry' for my parents," Alek snapped, shaken out of his reverie.

"Sophie was a countess, even if your granduncle did not consider her blood royal enough. She was of our world, knew how it worked and shared its values. Had the emperor not been so obdurate, their marriage would have raised some eyebrows, but that is all. Miss Sharp is a Darwinist and a commoner. She knows little of our world and is contemptuous of what she does know. Besides, I hardly think being murdered together constitutes a happy ending."

"That was politics," Alek protested.

"Do you think politics will leave you alone?" Alek fell silent. Musingly, Volger added, "You two really have little in common, besides a dearth of other company your age, and youthful passion."

Alek knew that was not true; but he was not about to tell Volger about their mutual love for the Leviathan and its complex ecology, or the way Dylan understood him so well and supported him, or the way he admired her. He certainly was not going to tell Volger that, had he not been an Archduke's son, he would have wanted to be just like the boy he had thought Dylan was.

Instead, he said, "You don't understand us."

"Ah, the common plaint of youth."

Alek bristled, but Volger continued. "Very well, you have my promise not to interfere, with one proviso: if I find you intend to do something supremely stupid, I will do everything in my power to prevent it, even revealing Miss Sharp's secret if I must. By supremely stupid, I mean something like returning to British captivity, simply because Miss Sharp asked you to."

"That was the correct decision. The Germans will not allow me to just waltz into Austria and take the throne. You remember their landships walking our countryside as if they already owned it; I would be caught and killed long before I could reach Vienna. I need the support of the Darwinists."

"So you will become their puppet?"

Anger warred to get out. Alek knew it colored his voice, but he didn't allow it to dictate his words. "No, I will never be anyone's puppet; not yours and not theirs. If we can offer a way to end the war early, they will be forced to deal with us as equals. I don't doubt there will be a heavy price to pay, but Austria will remain an independent power. And if we present our people with a way out of a losing war, they will rally to our cause and force out the Germans. We can make it work, Volger!"

"If the Clankers are winning, when your granduncle dies, your peace treaty will be worthless; and what happens if he survives the war?"

"Then everything we have done will be for nothing, and it will not matter whether we sat the war out on top of a Swiss Alp, or in the wilds of the Ottoman Empire, or aboard the Leviathan. The next emperor will be a puppet, either the Darwinists' or the Germans'."

"You have given this thought." Volger's gaze was penetrating; Alek said nothing. The past week, when he was trying so hard not to think about Dylan, had given him plenty of time to think about this. Volger was right. He had returned to the Leviathan because Dylan had asked him to. It was only afterward that he worked out it was the correct course of action.

Alek guessed that Volger understood exactly what had happened, but the man only sighed. "Very well, Alek, but in the future," he pleaded, "discuss matters with me before you do something irreversible."

"Whenever I can," Alek agreed quickly. "I value your advice, Count."

Volger raised an ironic eyebrow and Alek added, "Even if I don't always follow it."

"I am trying to recall when you have ever done so."

Alek reddened. Volger turned to his breakfast and daintily cut into a boiled egg. Alek took this as dismissal and left as quickly as he could with dignity.

He headed for the starboard engine pod, deep in thought. Alek now understood Dylan's words from the night before: 'you said, that night, when we were talking about Lilit…'" He had said that, if he liked Lilit, he would have to run a mile. Dylan already had feelings for him then, it seemed, so she couldn't tell him she was a girl; because he would have to run a mile. She should have told him 'no,' last night, when he asked if he could kiss her; should have told him they should stay friends. Instead, she had kissed him, told him by her actions that she wanted more than friendship. She must think they could make it work. He tried to think how.

Mr. Hirst gave him a sour look, when he reached the engine pod, and Alek realized he was late. Hoffmann smiled and waved him over. As Alek took the controls, Hoffmann looked at him and frowned.

"What has gotten you so worked up, Your Highness?"

"Volger," Alek said shortly.

Hoffmann laughed. "The Count can have that effect."

Alek smiled and went to work.

Eight hours later, Alek was tired, dirty, cold and partially deafened by the constant noise of the engine. He wanted a quick bath and a nap before dinner – but he wanted a chance to talk to Dylan more. Unfortunately, the soonest he was likely to see her was at dinner and Newkirk would be there. He hoped she would be free after dinner: the idea of not talking to her at all today, bar a few cautious words at meal time, was almost intolerable.

"Ah, Alek." Alek turned and found a smiling Dr. Barlow bearing down on him. "Mr. Sharp left Bovril in my cabin when he had to go attend to duties on the spine."

Alek nodded. Bovril could accompany Dylan on some of her duties, but most of the time it would be in the way or the officers would object to its presence.

"The lorises have been entertaining each other most of the afternoon, but I think it is time to return it to its owner."

Alek nodded again. "Of course, doctor, I'll collect Bovril right now."

They turned and walked together towards her cabin. She added, "I have also wanted to talk to you about the loris."

"Is there something wrong with Bovril?" Alek asked in alarm.

"No, no. At least, no more than before." Dr. Barlow sighed. "As you know, it should only have bonded with you; but it spends as much time with Mr. Sharp as with you. I am still trying to determine why."

Alek shrugged, having heard this before. He couldn't understand the problem. Why wouldn't it want to spend time with Dylan? He certainly did.

It occurred to him that the two cases weren't really comparable.

"From Bovril's point of view, you are its mother."

Alek nodded. He had heard this often enough that it no longer seemed quite so bizarre.

"For it to also bond with Mr. Sharp, it must think of him as its father."

Alek smothered a smile at this gender reversal.

"That implies an extremely close relationship between the two of you, comparable to a married couple – without the sexual aspect, of course."

Alek knew his face had turned a bright red.

"Or that the loris is defective. Mr. Newkirk was not nearly as diligent as you or Mr. Sharp in maintaining the proper temperature."

Alek swallowed a heated defense of Bovril; that would be far too revealing.

"I would expect there to be other abnormalities, in that case, however. If the first group were not deliberately kept genderless, as a precaution against unintended reproduction, one possibility would be homosexuality."

Alek stopped, his mouth open. Dr. Barlow did not stop and, after a moment, Alek hurried to catch up with her.

As if there was nothing unusual in discussing such matters, she continued. "That can be caused by fluctuations in hormone levels in the womb or, in this case, the egg. It is a perfectly natural phenomenon that occurs in a great many species."

"Just ungodly," Alek muttered. Dr. Barlow laughed.

"Not at all. God created homosexuality, after all. Even the Catholic Church accepts that being homosexual is not sinful, although sexual relations between two men is considered a sin. Personally, I find that hypocritical: that God could make men lust for each other, but punishes them if they act on their feelings."

"Truly?" Just a day ago, that information would have been of enormous importance to him. It was irrelevant now, of course, but Alek could not control his morbid curiosity. As Dr. Barlow opened the door to her cabin, he asked, "You mean that, if I were to have… feelings for, say, Dylan, that would not be a sin." He felt he was giving nothing away, as she had clearly already guessed that much.

"Exactly; you would have to commit a sexual act with him for it to be a sin." She looked thoughtful. "I don't know what exactly constitutes a sexual act in this circumstance, but I imagine anything that does not involve ejaculation should be safe."

Alek choked at the words and started coughing. This time, Dr. Barlow stopped and watched him with concern. Once she was certain he was alright, she ushered him into the cabin.

"Kissing or petting ought to be perfectly safe."

"Uh," Alek answered. Bovril waddled over to him and he quickly scooped it up. Dr. Barlow's enigmatic smile left him mute; he nodded at her and all but ran back to his own cabin. He emerged again only when it was time for dinner.

Both Newkirk and Dylan were already seated when he arrived. Alek was glad to see Dylan no longer looked annoyed; she even gave him a brilliant smile. Alek was taken aback, and then hurriedly sat down before Newkirk noticed anything. After the conversation with Dr. Barlow, he was embarrassed to look at Dylan; but at the same time, he couldn't stop thinking about kissing and petting her. He peeked over at her, found her looking inquiringly at him, and felt his face heat up. He looked down at his food and started eating. Once he thought he could do so without embarrassing himself, he looked over at her again. She looked a bit irritated now, but when he smiled at her, her face softened. Alek turned back to his food, his smile still on his face.

Newkirk swallowed, cleared his throat, and asked, "Are you two all right now?"

Alek stiffened and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Dylan straighten up and scowl.

"What do you mean?" Alek asked carefully.

"You've been out of sorts all week and would hardly look at each other, let alone talk. I thought you must have had a fight. But now you're smiling at each other. So are you two all right now?"

They glanced at each other. "Aye," Dylan said. "Alek was being a bum-rag, but I sorted him out."

"You sorted me out!" Alek yelped. "Now see here, Dylan…." Alek stopped, not sure how to continue.

"Maybe you need some more sorting."

"Maybe you need another fencing lesson."

Newkirk turned his attention back to his food, apparently eager to stay out of the line of fire.

Alek stood and, in his best 'offended Volger' imitation, said, "Maybe we had best take this discussion somewhere else."

Dylan pushed back from the table. "Aye, no point in upsetting poor Mr. Newkirk."

"Hey," protested Newkirk weakly.

Once they were alone in the hallway, they looked at each other and burst into laughter. After the laughter died out, Alek said quietly, "I can't believe Newkirk noticed."

"If you keep making moon-eyes at me, everybody's going to figure it out right quick."

Reddening, Alek said, "Dr. Barlow knows something is going on, but she thinks we're homosexuals."

Dylan groaned. "She talked to you too? Dead embarrassing, wasn't it?"

Alek nodded. "I think we should take Bovril back to my cabin before we say anything more."

"Moon-eyes," stated Bovril, clutching tightly to Alek's shoulder. "_Mr._ Sharp."

Alek stifled a laugh at Dylan's look of dismay. It wasn't really funny; they would have to be more careful around everyone, it appeared. The midshipman nodded hastily and no one spoke the rest of the way. After they deposited Bovril in Alek's cabin, they decided that the machinery room, used only to store spare parts since the eggs hatched, remained the safest place to talk.

The moment the door closed behind them, Dylan said abruptly, "I was a bum-rag at breakfast, Alek. I'm sorry."

So much had happened since then, Alek had forgotten. "Why were you?" he asked curiously.

"I thought you didn't think I could take care of myself, that you thought you had to protect me from Volger, just because I'm a girl."

"You couldn't stop his threats," Alek pointed out reasonably, "I could."

"Aye, that's why I'm sorry. I wouldn't be, if you thought I couldn't take care of myself."

"I know you can take care of yourself, I've seen you do it; but you shouldn't have to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alek wasn't entirely certain, actually; he just knew that, in the proper order of things, men took care of women. But Dylan didn't exactly fit into that order.

He must have pondered the matter longer than he thought, for Dylan poked him. "What's that mean?"

"I suppose it means that you shouldn't have to pretend to be a boy, just to be ably to fly, especially not in a war. God's Wounds, Dylan! You could be killed; you almost were several times."

Her lips tightened. "It's Deryn, not Dylan."

"What?"

She punched his arm hard enough to hurt. "My name, Dummkopf."

"Oh, that makes more sense. I thought you had said, 'Darren,' but that's another boy's name, isn't it?"

Her face relaxed. "Aye. I thought you hadn't been listening."

"Well, I was a bit distracted. I think I should keep calling you Dylan, however; that way I am not likely to slip up in front of someone else."

Annoyance chased disappointment across her face, before she nodded glumly. Then her eyes hardened.

"So it's alright for a boy to risk his life, but not a girl?"

Alek swallowed his 'of course' before it got past his lips. "Do you want to risk your life? I assumed that you did this so you could fly, not so you could fight."

"Of course I did! But why is it a fine thing for Dylan to be a soldier, but not for Deryn?"

Alek thought of the soldier he had been forced to kill back in Austria, and Zaven sacrificing himself to save the Leviathan. He remembered fighting battles with his toy soldiers, the night his parents were killed; the real thing was very different.

"I think perhaps it is best if no one needs risk their lives. That is why we are trying to end this war, after all."

Deryn considered this; then she narrowed her eyes. "I don't want you trying to look after me."

"But isn't that why you went and found me in Istanbul? To look after me?"

She looked completely taken aback. "Aye." After a moment, she asked, "So are we to look after each other, then?"

Alek liked that idea. "Yes, I think we should."

Deryn nodded. "How did things go with his countship?"

"Rather well, I think. He will not expose your secret or interfere with our relationship." Whatever that was, exactly. Alek was still trying to feel that part out.

"Blisters! How did you manage all that?"

"With some threats of my own." Alek sighed and added, "I had to promise I would not marry before I am crowned." He had no intention of mentioning the second part of the promise.

"To me," Deryn growled, "or to anyone?"

"Since I have no intention of marrying someone else, it comes to the same thing." He saw her hands close into fists and grabbed them before he got punched again.

"This is only temporary. Once I am crowned, the promise no longer holds." He hesitated.

"I'm no proper lady for an emperor," Deryn stated bitterly. "Don't pretend differently."

"I wouldn't be able to marry you right away," Alek admitted, "but I won't be dependent on the aristocracy's good opinion forever."

Deryn snorted. "Aye, like I believe that. Well, I don't want to be a barking empress."

Alek felt like he had been struck. "Are you rejecting me?"

"Of course not, you daftie; but it won't work, you know it won't. It'd be worse than when your parents married. I'm not just as common as dirt, I'm a Darwinist who pretended to be a boy. Everyone will think you're cracked in the attic. How are they going to respect you then? Even if they did, I'd have to become someone I'm not. I'd have to stop swearing, wear dresses, pretend to be a proper lady. I can't do that, Alek, even for you."

Alek nodded dumbly. She wouldn't be Deryn, if she did.

"I cannot give up being emperor, even for you." He had trained all his life for that role. Strange that now, when it finally seemed possible, it had lost much of its allure. It remained his duty, whether he wished for it or not. He could end the war, carry out his father's plans, and accomplish other reforms whose need he had only begun to see.

Deryn nodded, her eyes glistening in her eyes. "But you're not emperor yet."

A vague plan began to form in Alek's mind. "It won't be forever. I think… I am certain I can find a way…"

"Oh, shut it and kiss me, Dummkopf."

He had to honor such a politely-worded request. It was only gentlemanly.

Eventually they came up for breath, foreheads touching. "Ich liebe dich," Alek whispered and then froze. He had not intended to say it, not so soon, not until he was certain of his feelings. But then, he had had two months to fall in love with Deryn, and her gender didn't change who she really was; and if he was ready to discuss marriage, even in general terms, some part of him must already be certain.

The words had just popped out, in German because that was how his father would say it to his mother. Surely this was how Father felt when he said them? How lovely, if Deryn colored slightly, as his mother had, and shyly repeated them back.

Deryn leaned back just a bit and stared suspiciously at him. "Does that mean what I think?"

Alek sighed, his romantic imaginings evaporating. "Probably."

Her face lit up with a brilliant smile. "Well, then, Clanker," she said in a husky voice, "I love you too."

There was no blush, no soft, shy voice; instead she was brash, confident, and not at all restrained – in short, she was Deryn. Which was, Alek thought before their lips came together and drove all coherent thought from his head, exactly the proper thing for this lady to be.

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End of Chapter

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Chapter Notes:

Katarina Schratt is a historical character. I confess that I had never heard of her until I read "All The Lonely People", chapter 48 of Julia456's short story collection "Quite Peculiar." I highly recommend the whole collection.

Dr. Barlow's discussion of the cause of homosexuality is based on several studies that have been done, although it is likely not the only factor involved.

The question of how a Darwinist society would treat homosexuality has been raised in a review. I would think the focus on biology would cause society to think about homosexuality in biological rather than moral terms; so while it might be frowned upon, it wouldn't be in terms of "eternal damnation." In any case, as Dr. Barlow pointed out, Alek's grasp of theology is shaky at best. However, I do not mean to imply that Darwinist society as a whole is particularly sympathetic towards homosexuality, merely that Deryn and Dr. Barlow are. I think that is in keeping with their characters.


	3. A Great Day

A Great Day

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July 1, 1918

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All characters, fabrications, walkers, tesla cannon and the like are the property of Scott Westerfield. No money is being made on this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

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A/N: Written pre-Goliath

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Alek waited until the last delegate left the hall, before turning to Volger and engulfing him in a hug. Picking up the slighter man, he spun him around while laughing uproariously.

"A great day, Volger, the last day of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the first day of the United States of Greater Austria! Finally, my father's goal is fulfilled!"

"And yet," Volger said drily, as he broke away from Alek, "still ruled by an emperor."

Alek grinned. "I suppose I could be Hereditary President-for-life; but you were the one to teach me the importance of symbols, Count, and the title of emperor is still a powerful symbol."

Volger grunted, which Alek took for grudging agreement. "You gave away too much. You still have much to learn about negotiation and diplomacy."

Alek nodded, still grinning. "No doubt; but we make the perfect team, you know that we do, Volger. I, the honest and enthusiastic idealist, convinced the delegates knew we were serious about sharing power, and not just trying to trick them; you, the scheming pragmatist, cut deals and kept me from doing anything too stupid."

Volger snorted. "Your honesty is simply your inability to lie convincingly; a grave shortcoming in a ruler, and one that the less honest politicians (which is to say, most of them) will take advantage of."

Alek's grin faded a little. "I may still be a terrible liar, but I flatter myself I am better at spotting the lies of others. Come now, Volger, you will not spoil my mood today. God's wounds, eighteen months of negotiations! But it is finally done; the empire will survive. The Hungarians, Czechs, Slovaks, Slovenes and Croats will not break away to form separate countries, but will have their own states within the empire."

"I thought we were no longer an empire," Volger said drily.

Alek laughed, his humor restored. "We do have a split personality, don't we? Both empire and federation."

"The Darwinists did us no favor, first promising them independence and then changing their minds."

Alek nodded. Just over nineteen months ago, his granduncle, the emperor, had died; eighteen months ago Alek had been crowned the new emperor. The pope's letter had helped, but it was his promise of peace with the Darwinists, and local self-government for the nationalities of the empire, that won him the support he needed. Two weeks after the coronation, a truce was signed with the Darwinists; a formal peace treaty soon followed. Such speed was possible because the terms had already been negotiated while he was cooling his heels in England. The cost had been high, but the country had the peace it so badly needed and the Darwinists had withdrawn their support for the various independence movements. Because of that and the promises Alek had made, the empire had not shattered into half a dozen minor states. The danger his father had foreseen years before had been averted.

An aide hurried into the room. "Everything is ready, Your Majesty."

Alek nodded and they walked out into the Festival Hall. Its high vaulted ceiling and ornate decorations would have been worthy of a look on another day.

"I still say you gave away too much," Volger grumbled.

"We had to give the states real power, if this was to work at all."

"And so the real power falls to the socialists and anarchists who control the new states, while the Imperial government becomes little more than an afterthought."

"Ah, now we come to the real complaint. Take comfort, Volger, the two largest states – German Austria and Hungary – remain under the control of the aristocracy. As to the other states, the new governments are hardly socialists, let alone anarchists. Masaryk of Bohemia, Stefanik of Slovakia and Korosec of Slovenia are moderate polliticians. Pribicevic, I grant you, is a weasel who would like nothing better than to pull Croatia out of the empire and join it to Yugoslavia, but so far he doesn't have enough support. Now, God willing, he never will."

"I do not understand how you get along so well with them. The youngest is twice your age and Masaryk is older than I."

Alek smiled. "Ancient indeed. But he was a University professor before he became a politician, and at heart he still is. He sees me as one of his students and delights in teaching me my job." He added wryly, "I have learned some valuable lessons from him."

"Would that you listened to me as carefully," Volger murmured.

Alek laughed. "I listen, Volger, and what is more, these days I usually follow your advice."

The man's dry look showed his opinion of the matter.

"As for the others, listening attentively to their stories and making occasional vague sounds of agreement goes a long way. Who cannot like having an emperor hanging on their words?" More soberly, he added, "Not the Croatian, of course, but the others I consider friends; which is good, as we will be dealing with them for years to come."

Three-and-a-half years to be precise, but Alek was not about to tell Volger that. He had promised Deryn he would abdicate as soon as he had completed needed reforms. Five years, he had said, although that felt like an eternity. She had laughed and called him a dummkopf to think it could be done so quickly. Since she wouldn't allow him to promise her, he had made the promise to himself instead. He tried not to think about all that still needed to be done, or that he only had three-and-a-half years left to do it. How he wished Deryn could be here, to help him celebrate his triumph and to keep him sane as he struggled with his nigh-impossible task. But the Leviathan was presently in Germany, overseeing the disarmament of that country. The most he could manage was occasional letters. Not enough, not nearly enough, but far better than nothing.

"See what that friendship gets you, boy. They will always act in their own best interests, and friendship be damned."

Alek shrugged. "We will see, I suppose."

Reaching the anteroom, Volger shrugged into his coat, while an attendant helped Alek into his. As emperor, it seemed, he was not allowed to don his own coat. It was quite annoying.

"I don't see why I had to wear this garish uniform," Alek complained. It consisted of scarlet trousers, white tunic covered in medals and gold buttons, a high, stiff collar that was attempting to strangle him, a gold belt and an embroidered sash. It looked, in Alek's opinion, quite ludicrous.

Volger smirked. "A symbol, Your Majesty. It would not do for the emperor to look like just another peasant."

Alek looked at Volger's morning suit and frock coat. "Or a mere wildcount?"

"Just so." The man frowned. "I wish we had held this at Schonnbrunn Palace, or even the Hofburg."

They stepped out into the park fronting the giant, Gothic-style building. There were soldiers everywhere. The nearest snapped off salutes to Alek. He responded with a smile and a nod.

"Symbols, Count. Both palaces are symbols of imperial power; better a neutral location like the City Hall."

Volger looked grim. "Politically, yes. I am more concerned at the moment with security."

Alek shrugged. "Well, the Czechs, Slovaks, Croats and Slovenes should like me after today's work."

"The moderates, yes; but the extremists will hate you all the more, since the agreement dims their hopes of independent countries. The Austrians hate you because you have taken their empire away; the Hungarians hate you because, instead of ruling half an empire, they are just one of many states; the nobles hate you because they think you are taking their power away…"

Not yet, Alek thought, but I will. He wasn't ready to convert Greater Austria into a democracy just yet, but there needed to be more balance between the power of the aristocracy and the power of the commons.

"… and everyone else hates you because the economy is a shambles…"

"That's what happens when you send the people off to war, instead of letting them work, and only weapons and munitions are made. At least we were able to end the war in time to stave off famine. If we hadn't been able to import food from America, it would have been a very bleak winter."

"… and you gave away a third of the empire to the Darwinists."

"That is absurd. Did they expect peace would come without a price? We saved Croatia, Slovenia and South Tyrol. God's wounds, the Darwinists wanted us to declare war on Germany! Did they think our people would trade one war for another? What nonsense!"

Volger raised an eyebrow. "Were you imaging assassins to be rational people, Your Majesty?"

Alek flushed, annoyed that the Count should still evoke such a reaction from him. Volger's eyes darted around, although what danger he might spot that the soldiers missed, Alek could not guess. He knew the man was haunted by the murder of Alek's parents and constantly worried that the same fate might befall his charge. Alek felt the ghosts of his parents nearby, as well, but for a different reason.

"Would that we could have held this ceremony three days earlier," he muttered. "What better way to commemorate their deaths than with the fulfillment of my father's dream?"

Volger blanched and Alek, despite himself, chuckled. "Superstitious, Count? I would never have guessed it of you."

"Not in the least," he retorted, "but there are many who would like nothing better than to celebrate their deaths with the murder of the one member of the family who survives."

Alek felt ghostly fingers run down his spine. He knew the danger was real, but if he let his enemies dictate his actions, they had already won. The empire was still fragile and the people needed a strong leader, not one who cowered behind high walls and locked gates. As they approached the Ringstrasse, the wide boulevard that encircled the heart of Vienna, he gestured at the walker that awaited them. It stood tall on four legs, although not nearly as tall as the elephantine walkers he remembered from Istanbul, with an open top and glass ringing the platform where they would stand, visible to all.

"It is armored and the glass is bullet-proof. An aircraft might drop bombs upon us, but otherwise it is as invulnerable as our engineers can make it. There are soldiers posted up and down the street. No anarchist can jump out of an alleyway with a bomb or pistol, and with you supervising my meals, I do not fear poisoning."

In a piece of deliberate bravado, he added, "You worry too much, Volger."

He never saw the sniper, nor did he hear the shot, but he felt the bullet. The impact knocked him to the ground. His world went red, and then black.

.

To be continued

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Chapter Notes:

The United States of Greater Austria was indeed the Archduke Franz Ferdinand's dream. Look it up on Wikipedia for a description and a map. As I envision things, at the end of the war, East and West Galicia would have gone to Russia, Transylvania and Szekler Land to Rumania, Bosnia-Herzegovnia and Vojvodina to Serbia (which, as in our history, becomes Yugoslavia), and Trentino and Trieste to Italy; the rest is Alek's Greater Austria. So he lost over a third of the territory and a third of the population of Austria-Hungary; but that is still less than the victorious Allies took in our history. Carnolia was the homeland of the Slovenes and is present-day Slovenia; so for clarity, I am calling it Slovenia. On a present-day map, Greater Austria comprises Austria, Hungary, Slovakia, Slovenia, Croatia, the Czech Republic, a slice of northern Serbia and a small corner of northern Italy near the Swiss border.

Masaryk, Stefanik, Korosec and Pribicevic were real people. Mazaryk was indeed a one-time University professor. Calling Pribicevic a weasel is unfair, but since he strongly supported uniting Croatia with Serbia, Alek would dislike him on principle. He helped turn Yugoslavia into a dictatorship, so I dislike him on principle, although he later became a vocal opponent of the regime.

The winter of 1916/17 was indeed bleak for the Austrians; but the following winter was far worse, with many thousands starving to death.

I have gotten my information about the Vienna City Hall and its surroundings from several internet sites. A picture of Alek's uniform can be found in the Wikipedia entry for Rudolf, Crown Prince of Austria.


	4. Awakenings

Awakenings

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All characters, fabrications, walkers, lightning sticks and the like are the property of Scott Westerfield. No money is being made on this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

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A/N: Conceived (entirely) and written (mostly) pre-Goliath. This chapter was originally posted with the title of the next chapter. I apologize to anyone I confused.

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Continued from Chapter 3: A Great Day

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July 13, 1918

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Alek awoke to pain. It seemed as if pain was all he could remember, as if it defined his life. He knew there had been other things beside pain, once, but he couldn't remember what.

But the pain wasn't as bad this time. He could think, not just feel, but he still couldn't seem to remember. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, and agony spiked through him. He struggled to suppress a scream, but a hiss of pain escaped.

"Alek?"

"Deryn?" Only it came out, "Drrn." An image of her came to mind; some memories were still there, it seemed. He tried to crack his eyes open; but the light stabbed deep into his brain and he immediately closed them again with a grunt.

"Shh, love, it's all right. Don't try to move, just lie there and heal up."

"Heal up." The voice was an uncanny imitation, but it wasn't Deryn's. For one thing, it shook in a way she'd never let show. Bovril, then. Even more memories came back.

"Shot." He couldn't manage to remember what came before, but the pain when the bullet hit was crystal clear. Only brief glimpses after that: horrible pain, surrounded by strangers intent on inflicting even more pain, followed by blessed unconsciousness. He wasn't sure whether that had happened several times, or whether he was remembering the same scene over and over again.

He felt Deryn's hand on top of his. "Aye, you were shot, but you're getting better. Your job right now is to heal. Everything else can wait."

He could hear the tears in her voice, but that wasn't right; Deryn didn't cry. He had no idea what 'everything else' meant; there was only pain and Deryn. With an effort, he turned his hand over in hers. It hurt, but the pain was worth it. He squeezed her hand as hard as he could; he hoped she could feel it.

"No tears." He wasn't sure it was intelligible, or even if he had said it aloud.

"No, love, no tears. Go back to sleep now. I'll be here when you wake."

He wanted to say 'I love you' in German, the way Deryn liked, but he didn't have the energy, and sleep sounded so tempting. As the world faded out around him, he thought he felt Deryn's lips on his own and her breathy, "Ich liebe dich."

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July 14, 1918

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Deryn had told the truth: she was there when he awoke, asleep in a chair next to his bed with a blanket pulled over her and Bovril curled up on her shoulder. He was delighted to hear her soft, throaty snores. They had never had the opportunity to actually sleep together; now he had something to tease her with. Despite the circumstances, he found it comforting: a bit of the future domesticity that he hoped lay at the end of his tortuous journey.

She must be uncomfortable; she would definitely have a crick in her neck when she awoke. He couldn't bring himself to wake her, though; he was too content watching her. Right now, it was just the two of them; once she woke up, he was afraid the 'everything else' would come crushing down on him. Memories were coming back, but he determinedly pushed them to the margins of his mind, preferring to dwell in this timeless moment.

He tried to turn towards her, to see her better, but his left arm wouldn't work. He tried to turn his head, found he couldn't. Panicked, he tried his right arm; he could move that a little, although it hurt. Less anxious now, he tried his legs. He could move the right, but it was hard work. When he moved his left leg, pain shot up his left side and into his shoulder. He stopped and, after a calming breath, he settled for watching her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but smile. With her face relaxed, she looked adorable and utterly feminine. Nobody could mistake her for a man, at that moment, even in her lieutenant's uniform; which, he suddenly realized, she wasn't wearing. Instead she was in a staid blue dress with a high collar. It was… shocking, actually.

Alek hadn't realized there was someone else in the room until she appeared next to him. The white, starched uniform told Alek she was a nurse. The woman produced a thermometer from nowhere, as far as Alek could tell, and stuffed it into his mouth before he could say a word; then she took his wrist to measure his pulse. Deryn stirred. Almost reflexively, he tried again to turn his head just enough to get a better look at her.

"Don't move," the nurse ordered, making no attempt to keep her voice down. Alek would have glared at her; but that would have meant taking his gaze off Deryn, and nothing seemed more important than watching her. She sleepily opened her eyes and met his gaze. A smile filled her face and she stood up; Bovril protesting sleepily as it slipped off her shoulder and onto the chair, where it settled again.

The nurse pulled the thermometer from his mouth and stared at it, pursing her lips. Deryn moved to stand next to her, the smile still showing. The nurse glared at her for encroaching on her domain, then turned her attention back to Alek.

"How do you feel?"

Alek, his attention still on Deryn, said in his best imitation of her Galwegian accent, "Barking awful."

Deryn grinned; the nurse did not appear amused. She poked his left shoulder with a finger. "Does that hurt?"

"Yes," Alek gritted out.

"Hmm. I'll fetch the doctor." She bustled out again. Alek tried to lift his right hand towards Deryn, who quickly reached out and took it before the pain got too bad. She sat carefully on the bed and just looked at him, her eyes speaking for her. Since it was an effort to think in coherent sentences, let alone say them out loud, Alek was happy not to have to talk. Only then did he realize that the nurse had spoken English the whole time.

"Darwinist?" he asked in surprise.

"Your sodding Clanker doctors came within a squick of killing you," she retorted, her voice venomous. "If Nora hadn't got her fancy-boots doctor here right quick, they would have."

Alek raised his eyebrows, but couldn't think of how to respond. Instead, he said, "I can't move my left arm or neck."

"And you'd better not try," Deryn warned. "That bullet tore up your shoulder something horrible. They've bound your arm to your body and have your neck in a brace, so you can't jostle it."

Alek glanced over to his left. His shoulder was wrapped in bandages. He couldn't see his left arm very well, the bandages were in the way, but he could see a stand holding a bottle of fluids. A small, rubber tube came out the bottom of the bottle; the other end dropped out of sight, but he had no doubt it ended in a needle stuck into his arm.

As he pondered her all of this, the door opened and a large gray-haired man in a suit, with a stethoscope around his neck, entered, followed by the nurse. Deryn moved off the bed to give them room to work.

"Ah," he said jovially, "our distinguished host has rejoined us. How are you feeling today?" Without waiting for a response, he took his pulse again, while the nurse pulled back the blankets and sheet. Alek realized with a start that he was naked, except for the bandages wrapping his left shoulder. His face heated and he glanced at Deryn.

She smiled wickedly. "Nothing I haven't seen before, remember?"

His face turned even redder, but neither the doctor nor the nurse paid them any attention. Instead the doctor put a cold stethoscope to Alek's chest, demanding he breathe in; he did that over and over again, each time in a slightly different place. After that he poked and prodded Alek mercilessly, demanding if it hurt, hardly waiting for a reply before moving on to the next spot. Alek soon felt bruised and pummeled.

"Lymph nodes no longer swollen, color good, no hot spots. Nurse, remove the bandages." A few snips were followed by even more painful poking and prodding.

"God's wounds, man," Alek finally gasped, "leave off." Pain was exhausting work.

The doctor ignored him, but seemed to have finished. "No need to open the wound again; it can be left to finish healing without interference. The penicillin is doing its job, but he will need to continue the treatment for another week to ensure the infection does not return."

Alek looked at Deryn and mouthed, "Penicillin?"

Deryn grinned. "Bread mold."

Alek repressed a shudder. The doctor had left, he realized. In his place, the nurse stepped back up to the bed, holding a syringe.

"Ow!"

Deryn smirked. "Ah, the poor baby."

Alek would have glared at her, but he didn't have the energy. The nurse made him drink something and then she left. Deryn shifted back onto the bed and took his hand again.

"We are _not_ inviting them to the wedding," he told her grumpily, as the pain began to seep away.

The last thing he remembered, before sleep took him, was the look of shocked surprise on Deryn's face.

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8:00 AM July 15, 1918

.

Once again, she was sitting in the chair near the bed, when he awoke.

"Hello, Alek, I am glad to see you conscious for a change."

That was not Deryn's voice. Alek felt a momentary panic, until he realized whose it was. It had been two years since he had heard it last, after all.

"Hello, Dr. Barlow. Where's Deryn?" It occurred to him that he was being rude, implying he would rather have Deryn's company than hers (however true that was), but Dr. Barlow took no offence.

"She has to sleep sometime, Alek. I promised her there would be a friendly face when you woke up."

Now Alek really felt embarrassed. "She hasn't been overtiring herself, has she?"

Dr. Barlow smiled. "She has tried, but we have insisted she sleep." She sighed. "But nothing will keep her from your side, when she's awake. I would be grateful if you could convince to eat more and to take a turn outside every once in a while. It's not healthy to stay in doors all the time."

"I will try." He started to turn his head towards her, to see her more easily, but the neck brace prevented it. Dr. Barlow shifted her chair so she was more clearly in his field of vision. "What are you doing in Vienna, doctor? Or am I in England?"

"No, not England; this is Schonbrunn Palace." Alek realized she was right. This was his bedroom, in fact; it was all the unidentifiable Darwinist equipment, on the floor and on innumerable tables that had been brought in, that misled him.

"I needed to examine Bovril," she explained. "There are only two perspicacious lorises in existence and I must study them, if I hope to improve the next generation." A trace of bitterness entered her voice, as she added, "Whenever that might be."

Drily, Alek commented, "Strange that you have not felt the need to examine it these past two years."

"Deryn and I have been exchanging letters since I left the Leviathan," she said airily. Alek nodded. Dr. Barlow had learned Deryn's secret just days before their arrival in England. Her expression when she realized how she had been fooled would have been most amusing, if they had not been terrified she would give them away. Fortunately she had formed quite a liking for _Mr._ Sharp and, Alek suspected, saw an advantage in having the possibly-future-monarch of an empire in her debt. She had visited Alek several times in his semi-confinement in England, once with her husband in tow, and kept in touch with Deryn. The boffin continued, "She has been keeping me up to date on its health and behavior."

"While I do mention in Bovril in most of my letters, as it misses her almost as much as I do, I did not think such anecdotes could replace a rigorous examination by its creator."

Dr. Barlow smiled. "The death of its bonded human would ruin my long-term study of the species. So when Deryn wrote that you were dying, I had to intervene."

"So it was for Bovril's sake that you came, then."

The smile dropped from her face. "The death of one friend and the devastation of a second does not carry as much weight with those in power as the potential failure of an important project." Her own voice turned dry. "The fact that you are a monarch favorably disposed to our country also helped. Without such justifications, I could not have commandeered the resources I needed. As it was, it was difficult to convince Doctor Smythe-Barrington to accompany me. He is one of the preeminent medical doctors in Britain, and is in great demand. Really, Alek, I cannot say I am impressed with your Clanker doctors."

Alek remembered that Deryn had said something similar, if less diplomatic; which raised another question.

"Why is Deryn here, doctor, and not in Germany aboard the Leviathan?" And why was she wearing a dress, of all things?

A knowing smile crossed Doctor Barlow's face. "I think I must leave that story to Deryn to tell. Suffice to say, Mr. Sharp has given way to Miss Sharp." Thoughtfully, she added, "It occurs to me that I must call you 'Your Majesty,' or you must call me Nora. Otherwise I would be guilty of the most shocking impropriety." She did not look the least bit shocked, of course.

"Nora, then." Alek frowned. "Deryn calls you that. I hadn't realized you two were so close."

"In addition to our correspondence, we have been spending much of our time together since I arrived. Our mutual concern for you has been another bond."

"How long have you been here, Nora?" Alek asked in surprise. Surely, it hadn't been all that long.

"I have been intruding upon your hospitality for several days, Alek; I hope you don't mind."

A bit flustered, he replied, "You are welcome here whenever you may wish, for as long as you wish. I hope you know that, Doc… Nora."

"Thank you, Alek."

"I hope your husband was not too put out by your coming."

Nora smiled. "He is used to these sudden trips by now. He merely asked, 'Which emperor is it again, dear?' I told him, 'The one who sent you the gorgeous Ottoman vase last year.' He was then quite anxious for your continued good health."

Alek smiled. Sir Alan Barlow was a noted collector of Oriental and Islamic ceramics. "I am glad he appreciated the gift. We Hapsburgs have the collected loot of four centuries fighting the Ottomans; we will not miss one vase."

"I must say, it certainly retrieved my failure to obtain any during our stay in Istanbul."

The door opened and the nurse entered. She turned to Nora, scowling. "You were to inform me the moment he woke up."

Nora was unconcerned. "It has only been a little while."

"Hmph." She repeated the procedure of the previous day; Alek still couldn't tell where the thermometer came from. "I will get the doctor."

Alek did not look forward to another examination by that doctor – Smythe-Barrington, evidently – and was pleasantly surprised when a younger, slighter man entered. He was wearing a bowler hat, so he was a 'boffin' of some sort.

"Alek, this is Doctor Sorenson," Dr. Barlow told him. "He has been apprenticing under Dr. Smythe-Barrington and will take over your treatment, when Dr Smythe-Barrington returns to London."

"At your service," Alek said. The younger doctor doffed his hat and bowed shyly. In a Swedish accent, he said, "Thank you, Your Majesty, but it is I who am at yours."

"Doctor Sorenson is interested in merging Clanker medical technology with Darwinist methods, Alek."

The man nodded eagerly. "What your people have been doing with Roentgen rays is very exciting. We have nothing like it."

Alek had no idea what Roentgen rays were, but he was curious what the Clankers could teach the Darwinists, given the contempt both Nora and Deryn held for his previous doctors. However, his conversation with Nora had tired him, so he made no reply. He would need all his energy just to survive the examination.

Doctor Sorenson was much gentler than the other doctor, but Alek still breathed a sigh of relief when he was finished.

"Ah, Alek, you're awake; much better."

A woman in her early sixties, lavishly dressed, entered the room.

"Grandmama, you're here too?"

The Archduchess and Princess Imperial Maria Theresa of Austria, Princess Royal of Hungary and Bohemia, Infanta of Portugal, smiled. Although stouter and definitely grayer than she had been forty-five years ago, when her beauty had captivated the Imperial Court, she was still a very striking woman; and when she smiled, the wrinkles smoothed away and years melted off her face.

"Where else would I be? I must see to the welfare of my favorite grandchild."

Alek looked down on his still unclothed body and reached down with his right hand to try to pull up the covers. The nurse slapped his hand and pulled up the sheet and blankets halfway up his chest. It would have to do, Alek thought, knowing his step-grandmother had watched the whole thing with a twinkle in her eye. At least Nora had politely looked away. He wondered if, as emperor, he could insist on being dressed; but it didn't seem worth the energy right now.

The nurse had by this time armed herself with another syringe and jabbed it forcefully into his shoulder. It seemed more painful this time and his shoulder continued to ache afterward. Alek wondered if he had hurt overall so much last time that he just hadn't noticed it as much.

When the humiliation was finally finished, he turned his attention back to the older woman. His mind felt as if stuffed with cotton, but he managed come up with something to say. "All of your grandchildren are your favorite."

The Archduchess smiled, but did not deny it. "And your young lady requires a duenna. My apologies, Dr. Barlow, but everyone knows the Darwinists have different standards of propriety in such matters."

"No offence taken." Nora sounded amused.

What young lady, Alek wondered, and what was she doing in his home? She must be of high rank, if grandmama felt the need to chaperone her. In that case, Alek thought it was a good thing the archduchess had come. He did not want to be trapped in a "compromising" situation with some young flower of the nobility, particularly not with Deryn around; that would be embarrassing for him and possibly dangerous for the young lady. Where was Deryn? Ah, yes, she was sleeping. Grandmama and Nora were here; he didn't need Deryn, but he wanted her.

As if drawn by his thoughts, she appeared in the doorway.

Nora sighed. "I had hoped you would sleep longer, Deryn."

"And I had hoped you would come get me when Alek woke, like you barking promised," Deryn snapped, as she entered the room. She was once more wearing a dress, this time a green one rather more flatteringly cut. Her short hair was incongruous in that outfit, but the overall effect was not displeasing; or at least it would be, if she weren't scowling.

"There seemed no point until Doctor Sorenson had completed his examination. Elsbet should be bringing the broth very shortly," she told her, unperturbed. "I think Alek would prefer you to feed it to him."

"Yes, please," Alek said, although he wasn't very hungry. While the confrontation might normally be amusing to observe, he felt too weary to appreciate it right now.

Doctor Sorenson seemed anxious to be escape from the threatening scene. He took a bottle from one of the tables and poured a small amount into a tumbler. "This is for the pain. Please take it once you have eaten."

Alek looked at the glass suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Laudanum; it will help you sleep."

Now that Deryn was there, sleep was the last thing Alek wanted. "The pain is not that bad," he lied. "I will save this for later."

Three females turned their attention to him and he withered under their stern gazes. An emperor he might be, but he knew he was outmatched. With a heavy sigh, he corrected himself, "Or sooner, if I must."

Deryn added sharply, "And you must."

The maid entered with the bowl of broth and Dr. Sorenson used the diversion to make his escape. She looked around, saw who was there, and immediately carried the bowl over to Deryn. Once Deryn had the bowl, the maid curtsied. "Will there be anything else, my lady?"

Alek watched, bemused, as Deryn shook her head. "No, thank you, Elsbet."

Elsbet turned towards the others. She curtsied again. "Your Highness, Frau Doktor." She slipped out through the doorway. Alek suspected she would be waiting just outside, in case she was called again. The servants had always hovered around him annoyingly close; his injury would no doubt make it worse.

Alek smiled when Deryn sat down next to him. "I'm glad you're here," he told her quietly. She gave him a strained smile. He wondered what was wrong. He was about to ask, when she stuck a spoon full of broth into his mouth. He let Deryn spoon-feed him, although it was both annoying and embarrassing, particularly as Nora and Grandmama watched over her shoulders. Finally, tired of this, he tried to sit up; but Deryn immediately pushed his right shoulder back down.

"You'll hurt yourself, Dummkopf," she hissed angrily. "Don't you dare inflame your wound again!"

The vehemence seemed excessive, but Alek was focused on the pain that radiated up and down his left side. "That was stupid," he admitted.

"Aye, you clart-filled…"

"Miss Sharp." The tone of command brought her up short. With a scowl, she turned towards the archduchess. The contest of wills was epic, but Deryn finally turned back to Alek.

She looked duly chastened and, with a sweet and completely unconvincing smile pasted onto her face, said meekly, "I apologize, Your Imperial and Royal Majesty, for my unseemly outburst and completely inappropriate language. I do hope you can forgive such behavior. My only excuse is that I am concerned you might overstrain your body and pull open your stitches, which might lead to a new infection…"

Alek stared at her, wondering who she was and where his Deryn had gotten to.

In a fierce, high-pitched voice, she continued, "…which could barking kill you this time, you clart-filled bum-rag!"

Alek ignored his grandmama's loud sigh and smiled delightedly. "You're back! Please don't go away like that again." In a confiding voice, he told her, "I don't think I like that lady very much."

Deryn looked worried, but Alek couldn't understand why. She put the back of her hand against his forehead.

"He's a squick warm. Elsbet! Please get the nurse."

"Yes, my lady!"

What was the matter? All this confusion was very tiring. It seemed that every part of him ached, but his shoulder throbbed.

"It hurts," he complained.

"I know, love, but it's just for a bit longer. The nurse will look you over and then we'll give you the laudanum."

Alek opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see Deryn standing over him. At least, he hoped it was her; maybe it was that lady who looked just like her. She was wearing a dress, after all; Deryn hated dresses. Tentatively, he asked, "Deryn?"

"Aye?"

Relief filled him. "Oh, good, it's still you. Please stay," he pleaded.

"I'm not going anywhere, you ninny."

Just then, the nurse elbowed her out of the way. She stuck a thermometer into his mouth (where did she keep it?), took his pulse and looked him over. Pulling the thermometer out, she checked it and tsked.

"He's just overtired; why didn't you give him the laudanum? Here, give it to me."

"I'll do it." Someone sat down carefully on the bed.

"Alek?" He opened his eyes to see Deryn holding a tumbler. "You need to drink this."

Obediently, he opened his mouth and she poured it down his throat. The world, which was already fuzzy around the edge, began to lose focus.

"You have to stay," he told her querulously. "I don't want to kiss her, I want to kiss you." He tried to lift his head enough to do just that, but his body wasn't obeying him.

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I won't let anyone else kiss you, I promise."

Relieved, Alek stopped trying to hold the blackness back, and it swept the world away.

.

To be continued

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Chapter Notes:

I am very sorry for leaving Alek hanging on that cliff for so long. I had intended to have the next chapter out in 2-3 days, not a month; but then the chapter decided to be difficult, my copy of Goliath arrived (temporarily derailing things) and Real Life gave me a couple of thwacks upside the head. I expect the next chapter to go more smoothly, but I make no promises, as I don't think Real Life is finished making my life complicated.

You may notice that the rating of the story has been changed. I have been dithering over this for awhile. With the possible exception of one (non-swear) word in Chapter 2, it deserves a rating of 'T'; so that's what I am giving it, with a special warning at the top of Chapter 2. The one chapter that is a definite 'M' will be posted separately. It's not critical to the rest of the story.

In these notes, I mostly write as if Alek actually existed, because it is simpler to call someone "Alek's cousin" than to write "if Alek actually existed, this man would have been his cousin." I really do know that he didn't, in case you were wondering.

The Archduchess and Princess Imperial Maria Theresa of Austria, etc, was the stepmother of Alek's father, and so would not strictly be Alek's grandmother; but close enough. She was the only family member who supported Franz Ferdinand in his marriage to Sophie Chotek; and she supported his brother, Ferdinand Karl, after he was expelled from the family (and the country) for marrying an actual commoner (not just a mere countess), Bertha Czuber. I assume she would both treat Deryn kindly and insist that she needed a chaperone (or duenna).

Roentgen rays are another name for x-rays, named after Wilhelm Conrad Roentgen, who discovered them, and is the preferred term in some countries (including Germany). The work that has Dr. Sorenson (who is an entirely fabricated character, as is Smythe-Barrington) so excited is x-ray tomography, which can create 3D pictures of internal structures. In our world, this was invented in the 1930s; modern tomography uses computers to combine the images into a 3D picture, which is then called a CT or CAT scan.

Now we know why Scott only ever translated the first half of the Hapsburg motto before. It annoyed me quite a bit at the time. It's worth pointing out that it was meant quite literally, as it was through profitable marriages (starting with Maximilian I's marriage to Mary the Rich, heiress of Burgundy, in 1477) that the Hapsburgs prospered.


End file.
